


Shut Up and Smoke

by dontkeepmehere



Series: it smacks of jealousy [2]
Category: Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: M/M, Smoking, They mainly just sit around and smoke, this time Q is the jealous one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-06
Updated: 2013-01-06
Packaged: 2017-11-23 22:50:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/627382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dontkeepmehere/pseuds/dontkeepmehere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Q has had an awful day at work and decides to unwind with a soothing cigarette in his flat. James come home and joins in.<br/>-<br/><i>“Bad day?” James asks as notices the open drawer, the papers, leaves and filters. Mostly Bond notes the smell of cigarettes that is just beginning spread through the room. </i><br/><i>“Uh-huh,” Q replies noncommittally as he holds the paper with the evenly spread tobacco between the thumb and forefingers of both hands before he begins rolling. “Bring the ashtray, there’s some straights in the drawer. Old Gold though so not your favourite. ”</i><br/><i>“So long as I don’t have to smoke your shitty roll-ups.”</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Shut Up and Smoke

It’s been a long day. Hollie had messed up a large project and Q had spent the entire day reworking the programme to resolve the problem. He had to admit that  a large part of the reason that he was so pissed off was that it was Hollie who had made the mistake. He didn’t mind making corrections but it cut him that his protege had fucked up. 

Well that and some shit had be flirting with Bond again despite knowing better.

When he gets into the flat he heads straight to his desk in the living room, pulls open a drawer and searches through it until he finds the rarely touched cigarettes. Q looks at the packet of straights but instead opts for the plastic pouch of loose tobacco. He likes to roll his own when he is stressed, it give him something to do. 

Q moves to the sofa with the tobacco, papers and filters from the drawer. He pulls out a paper, smoothing it carefully before he adds a pinch of tobacco and reseals the plastic pouch. It’s a little too old and Q momentarily thinks he should have gone with the straights, old shag tended to be bad. 

He pinches the paper to form a trough in one hand and uses the other to spread the leaves out. It’s clumped, another down side of old tobacco, and Q has to pinch and move it carefully between his fingers to get a even spread. As he’s pulling a filter from the tubes and laying it on the correct end of the paper he hears the flat door opening. 

“Living room,” He calls out to James. 

“Bad day?” James asks as notices the open drawer, the papers, leaves and filters. Mostly Bond notes the smell of cigarettes that is just beginning spread through the room. 

“Uh-huh,” Q replies noncommittally as he holds the paper with the evenly spread tobacco between the thumb and forefingers of both hands before he begins rolling. “Bring the ashtray, there’s some straights in the drawer. Old Gold though so not your favourite. ” 

“So long as I don’t have to smoke your shitty roll-ups.”

Bond only social-smokes, never carries his own cigarettes and only ever smokes properly manufactured filtered cigarettes. James collects the items from the drawer and sits down in the arm chair so that he’s angled to face Q. He places the ash tray on the table so that’s it is within easy reach of both of them and then lights his cigarette.

The boy’s almost finished rolling now. James watches the  strong pale hands as Q shifts the paper between his fingers. His pink tongue quickly darts out to lick across the paper before he finishes the roll. He moves the cigarette to balance between the first and second fingers of his left hand finding comfort in the slight pressure he has to exert to keep it held there. 

“Lighter.” Q demands. Bond doesn’t toss the lighter to him as he had expect but instead stretches forward and holds the lighter, flame ignited, towards Q. The boy shifts, slightly annoyed the man wouldn’t just give him the bloody lighter, and holds the cigarette in the flame, sucking in so the fag would take. “Thanks.” 

“You look beautiful when you light up,” James says softly as lets the flame go out and tosses the lighter onto the table. Q just flops on the sofa and smiles up at the ceiling when he hears the compliment. “What went wrong?” 

“Hollie made a massive cock-up.”

“And?”

“And what?” Q snaps. James know not to press the issue.

James takes a long drag on the cigarette, draws it back and then blows it out in one smooth stream from the corner of his mouth. Q smokes terribly quickly and deeply, blowing puffs of smoke back through his nose so he can keep the short cigarette held tightly between his teeth. 

They sit in smoky silence for awhile. 

“Going to talk about the real problem?” 

Q just ignores James and continues smoking. He can feel the smoke in his lungs and as he draws back. Q sinks further into the sofa and traces non-existent patterns with his eyes on the ceiling of his flat. There’s a crack running from the over head light towards the kitchen door, he’ll have to fix that. The smell of cigarette smoke hangs in the air now, Q bends to place the shot stub of his cigarette into the ashtray before he begins to roll another. He’s much faster this time now that he’s not searching for catharsis is the completion of a oft-repeated process.

The smell of roll-ups and the smell of straight manufactured cigarettes is similar. Q can’t really tell them apart or at least doesn’t care enough to note any differences there may be.  However, the scent from roll-ups hangs around and clings to furniture and fabrics for days. Q’s almost certain Bond favours straights because the don’t make his suits smell. Q’s fingers usually smell faintly of tobacco, he smokes more that he ought.

Bond smokes much more slowly, drawing it out so he’s still finishing his first cigarette as Q picks up the lighter and starts his second cigarette. Q smokes like sex, hard, dirty, over too quickly. 

 “I always thought post-coital cigarettes were better, want to test?”

“That was crap, Bond,” Q says as he stands up, cigarette still lolling between his pink lips. “I don’t think you tried at all with that pathetic excuse for a pick-up line -“ 

“Hardly a pick up line.”

“Shut up and smoke.” 

“I thought smoking made you less whiny.”

“Get me something to eat and then you might get lucky. No-promises,” Q calls out as he moves towards the kitchen to get a drink. Bond finishes his cigarette and disposes of it in the ashtray.

He decides to try again, aware that his programme of action was incredibly dangerous. Subtly had not work, now the direct approach was needed. 

“I know she was flirting with me.” Q just grunts from the kitchen. The fact that the agent was aware of what had really turned to Quartermaster’s day sour didn’t make him feel any better. “- And, I didn’t flirt back.”

“Really?” Q asks as he sets two tumbler of scotch down in front of 007 before knocking back a large amount of his gin and tonic. “It looked like you did.”

“I didn’t.” 

“Yes you fucking did,” Q snaps as he stubbed out his cigarette out, he’s still got half left but he’s too pissed off to smoke. “I saw you. You did that thing you do with your face and you eyebrow and your fucking suit.” 

“What?" Bond chuckles slightly but stops when he realises the extent to which Q has been upset by it all. "Anyway this not how tend to deal with the situation.” 

“Tanner says Mallory doesn’t think I ought to corrupt someone’s credit cards because they flirt with you. Said something about it begin unprofessional, and illegal but he seems less bothered about that aspect.”

“I bet.”

“Yes, Mallory didn’t think my little memo was funny either.”

“Everyone else did,” James said. He shifted on to the sofa next to Q and pulled the drink from the boy’s hand to set it down next to his untouched scotch. James kisses the boy lazily; as he brushes his chapped lips against Q’s much smoother ones he can feel some of the man’s anger disappear.

“Hmm. Eve hasn’t forgiven me though. She lost twenty quid on betting pool the break room had running.”

“Q?”

“Mmhum?” Q mumbles as he presses into Bond more insistently. 

“Shut up.”


End file.
